


I Almost Lost You

by justakidfromhellskitchen



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justakidfromhellskitchen/pseuds/justakidfromhellskitchen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for a Tumblr drabble challenge for the phrase "I almost lost you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Almost Lost You

Sleep is a fickle mistress; she evades Matt though he yearns for rest, for oblivion. But he is cursed with restless reality, a reality in which Wesley might never wake.  
Matt has memorized the obtrusive beeping reporting Wesley's vitals, the heavy hissing of the ventilator, and the dull thud of Wesley's heart. Peace has found Wesley, smoothing the wrinkles of agitation out of his face.   
The darkness squeezes Matt in an intimate hug, like an old friend, and its bareness unnerves him; it seeks to protect him from all outside sounds, concealing life which goes on without Wesley beyond Matt's flat. Instead, the world has shrunk to this limbo, this afflicting purgatory of empty prayers.  
Please, God, a voice in his mind begs, if you're up there, help James. Help him wake up. Please. Please. Please...  
A vacuous silence is his only reply. Yet Matt waits while spindles of time churn away and maroon him in a sea of festering loneliness.  
The vibrating melody of Wesley's phone quakes Matt's thoughts and spits him back into reality. He snatches it off the bedside table, throttling the volume button. It chokes unceremoniously in Matt's hand. Matt is nearly sure who has been calling for Wesley's attention over the past forty-eight hours. It is a small mercy that Fisk does not yet know of Wesley's fate.  
"Nnn...."  
Hope spikes in Matt's core, and he tips his chin towards the sound. Breaths scrape Wesley's lungs like bruised autumn leaves pushed on the pavement by a weak wind. He bats at the tubes protruding from his nostrils.  
"Hang on, I got it." When Matt finally reels the last of the tube out of Wesley's nose, he steals a gulp of air. Matt kneels by the bed, searching for Wesley's hand underneath silken sheets. "I'm right here."  
"Matthew."  
His chin trembling, Matt leans in to press his lips to Wesley's forehead. "Yes, James. It's me. Thank God... I almost lost you."  
"Matthew," manages Wesley once more. "Matthew."  
"I'm right here, I have you."  
A gentle pressure of Wesley's fingers warms Matt's. His breathing is greedy now, clinging to renewed life. "I ... I ... love you."  
The confession costs Wesley his energy. Breath deepening, he gives himself to the embrace of sleep.   
And Matt is left with three whole words and abandoned relief.


End file.
